


Promises, Promises

by awildesunflower



Series: monchevy drabbles [2]
Category: Versailles (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Crying, Dom/sub Undertones, Drabble, Hate Sex, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Liselotte is alluded to, M/M, Makeup Sex, Short One Shot, monchevy - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-06-11 05:12:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15308226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awildesunflower/pseuds/awildesunflower
Summary: Chev and Philippe get into an argument over intimacy, cowardice, and faithfulness and it is resolved the only way they know how.





	Promises, Promises

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first monchevy drabble and this new season is filling me with angst so this the result

Philippe stormed into the bedroom to find his lover in a pile of sobs on the floor. All empathy had long disappeared when he saw him with that other man. Philippe scoffed and curled his lips up into a cruel smile.  
“You’re so pathetic,” Philippe chuckled harshly. “You did this yourself no matter what excuses you make.”  
The words elicited wrenching sobs from Chev before he could retort. He stood up on shaky legs and leaned against the bed. “You haven’t touched me in weeks,” he yelled, pointing an accusatory finger. “You haven’t come to me. You’ve been ignoring me ever since that bitch came into your life.”  
Philippe shook his head and clenched his jaw. “It is business. But of course, you wouldn’t know that. You’re just a spoiled pillow princess. Well in case you have forgotten, I am a politician! I have more important things to attend than some glorified whore,” he shouted; his face growing red as his volume rose.  
“Don’t ever say that I mean nothing to you!” Chev screamed through a sob. “I have been there for you through every tribulation. I have supported you when your brother took everything from you.”  
“And yet your devotion seems to be swayed by some pathetic cellist that you found on the street,” Philippe scoffed letting out a deep breath.  
“I have needs, goddamnit! I was jealous! You called me your friend, Philippe,” Chev choked out. “You embarrassed me. And you lied to everyone because I embarrassed you.” He broke down again. That night at the gala had set him off. Chev always admired Philippe for being open about their relationship, but all that was lost when he put on a new face to make a lousy deal. “How can I respect you when you can’t even respect me—us?”  
The question hung in the air. The deafening hum of the air conditioning filled the room as they both caught their breaths.  
“You know I have duties,” Philippe spoke lowly. “I must put the state before myself. It’s called sacrifice: something you wouldn’t know about.”  
Now it was Chev’s turn to chuckle dryly, “Are you kidding me? Do you know what I’ve lost? My brother refuses to speak to me. My friends left me. I gave up everything to follow you! But I didn’t give it all up for you to be ashamed of me because you’re too much of a coward!”  
Philippe lurched forward and pulled Chev by the collar of his shirt. “Don’t you dare call me a coward,” he gritted through his teeth.  
“Then hit me,” Chev threatened. The tears dried on his face. He felt absolutely empty once he let everything out. “If you aren’t a coward, then hit me,” he enunciated each word.  
Philippe glared at him puffing angry breaths out of his nose. The hum in the room grew louder as the tension swelled.  
“Those battles you fought mean nothing if you can’t even admit to yourself that you’re a faggot,” Chev hissed.  
As soon as the word left his mouth, Philippe’s hand struck his cheek. Chev’s head whipped the side and with a split second of recovery, he returned the strike to Philippe’s cheek. They both stared each other for a moment. Philippe touched his assaulted cheek that bore Chev’s handprint and a smirk grew on his face. He pulled Chev by his collar into a bruising kiss.  
“I am not a fucking coward,” Philippe growled, biting Chev’s lip as they kissed. He turned him around and pushed him on the bed, climbing onto him swiftly so he couldn’t move.  
“Get off of me,” Chev protested, wriggling beneath him. Philippe’s weight pressed him further into the bed causing his breaths to be more shallow.  
Philippe took to assaulting his neck, biting and sucking purple marks on to the skin. “You are mine,” he asserted before biting hard enough to break the skin, drawing out a whine. He ground his hips against Chev’s ass. “You feel that? Everyone is going to know you’re mine once I’m done with you.”  
Chev was silent but no longer protesting. He wanted this. He needed this. The lack of intimacy between the lately had depleted his confidence in their relationship.  
Philippe pulled Chev’s pants off and slid two fingers between his cheeks. “Better not have let that cellist fuck you,” he hissed, venom dripping from his lips as he prodded his fingers at his hole.  
Chev inhaled sharply at the sudden jolt of pleasure. “No. I know better than that,” he stammered pushing his hips back against Philippe.  
Philippe was quick to undo his pants and pull out his erection. He teasingly slid his cock along his hole and let the head catch on his rim. He spits in his palm and slicked up his length just enough to push into Chev’s hole. Chev whined and moaned beneath him as waves of pain and pleasure wracked through his body. Philippe thrust in to the hilt in one quick movement making Chev scream and shake. He fisted the sheets in his hands until his knuckles white and fingers cramped. Philippe was relentless with his thrusts. He gripped Chev’s hips and dug his thumbs into the dimples of his back as he buried himself deep inside him.  
“Is this what you wanted, you needy little cock whore,” Philippe grunted. He blanketed himself over Chev’s body so they were connected in every way. So they were merging into one. So they didn’t know where one ended and the other began.  
“Yes,” Chev chanted. “Yes, Philippe. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I needed this.” He moaned as sobs shook his body. His prostate was pounded over and over, pushing him to climax. The only friction for his erection came from the mattress beneath him. He got lost in the sounds of sex: skin slapping against skin, the creaking is the bed frame, the grunts and moans, the exasperated puffs of air. His own orgasm brought him back to the moment as he came against the sheets with the buck of his hips. Philippe chased his orgasm with a few quick thrusts before coming deep inside his lover. He halted his movements, lying still on top of Chev.  
Their chest rose and fell in sync as they tried to catch their breaths.  
Philippe kissed across Chev’s shoulders and the harsh marks he left on his neck. “I’m sorry,” Philippe murmured kissing behind his ear.  
“I know you are. Promise me things will change,” Chev pleaded looking back at him with tears stained to his cheeks.  
“I promise,” Philippe pledged, sealing it with a soft kiss.  
“Je t’aime.”  
“Mon coeur.”


End file.
